Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1) (20 page)

“Daddy,” she greeted fast.

Too fast.

Too high.

Too breathless.

Alberto frowned. “What’s wrong,
dolcezza
?”

Violet shook her head, her gaze dropping down to the item
her father held in his hands. It looked like a white gift box with a top that
could be removed. It even had a fucking bow on it.

Why did he have that?

What was he going to put in that box?

“Violet,” Alberto said harshly.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said quickly. “Olly got away from
me, but I caught him. I just thought I should bring him back to the house.”

Alberto looked over her shoulder, down the pathways. A dark
distance colored up his eyes as he asked, “You didn’t go further than I
approved, right?”

“Of course not.”

“And Olly?”

“He was chasing a squirrel. He gave up at the wicker
bench.”

Alberto still didn’t look pleased with her answer, but
Violet had the distinct feeling her father wouldn’t question her on the lie.
After all, he would have to explain what she saw. He would need to confirm it
had happened.

He wouldn’t do that, she knew.

“Supper is almost ready,” Alberto said. “Go back to the
mansion and wash up. You look tired—are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, Daddy,” she assured.

Lies.

She was so far from fine it was ridiculous.

Violet’s gaze dropped to the box Alberto held again. She
knew better than to ask, but with the shock of the day, her mouth worked before
her brain could tell it to stop. “What’s that for?”

“A gift,” Alberto said simply, offering nothing else. “I
need to collect it.”

Jesus.

Usually, more than an hour in his father’s presence and Kaz
would be more than ready to go anywhere else, but for once he didn’t feel that
pressing need as he sat opposite the man in the warehouse they used to do
business. It wasn’t often that the pair were in this place at the same time,
liability and all that, but for whatever reason, Vasily had demanded that Kaz
come along.

And he had invited Ruslan.

Since Vasily already seemed to be in a mood, not to mention
the cryptic shit he had spoken earlier, Kaz hadn’t asked why. And for the first
time in ages, he didn’t question the order when it was given to him.

Now as he sat at the table occupied with a few of the
higher ranking members in the
Bratva
, he let his thoughts wander, and it
was of no surprise to him that they went to Violet. It felt wrong almost—thinking
of her, considering present company—like his thoughts of her would be written
all over his face.

But he couldn’t help himself.

Already, he’d pulled his phone out, scrolling down to her
contact and staring at the number, tempted to shoot her a text, but for
whatever reason, he had been unable to do it, at least not yet—not when he was
in a room full of men that, while sharing his oath with the
Bratva,
he
didn’t completely trust.

He had learned the hard way about who to give his trust to.

Years ago, back when he was first trying to earn his stars,
Kaz had confided in a man by the name of Vadim. They had been around the same
age, both trying to work their way into Vasily’s good graces—because in the
end, it didn’t matter that Kaz was his son, if he didn’t do the work, he would
never become a part of the
Bratva
, despite what people thought.

It wasn’t that the information Kaz had shared with him was
of any importance, at least not to anyone but Kaz himself, but Vadim had taken
it upon himself to share Kaz’s words with Vasily, thinking that it would earn
him favor from the
Pakhan
.

It hadn’t. If anything, it only exposed the man for what he
was.

But it
had
taught Kaz an important lesson, one that
he hadn’t really understood until that point.

There was no honor amongst thieves.

Ruslan’s arrival dragged Kaz back to the present, and to
the fact that he hadn’t arrived alone. There was another man coming in before
him—Ruslan rarely let anyone walk at his back—carrying a gift. Kaz nodded to
Ruslan as his brother took the seat beside him, but most of his focus was on
the white box wrapped with red ribbon that the no-name soldier was carrying
over to Vasily.

When his offering was placed on the table, he made his
leave rather quickly, though it was clear he wanted to stay and see what was
inside of it.

This, apparently, was what Vasily had been waiting on. There
was a note tucked into the bow of the ribbon, but as Vasily plucked it free, he
didn’t bother with the box at all, merely opened the note and began to read.

“Sacrifice,” his voice rang out amongst the quiet of the
room, “is at the heart of repentance. Without deeds, your apology is worthless.
Bryan Davis.”

Who the fuck was Bryan Davis?

“As you may all have been aware, one of our own was
attacked two nights ago,” Vasily said, dropping the note on the table, his gaze
sliding over every man in the room—well at least everyone besides Ruslan.

But no one would have noticed that, no one except Kaz. Kaz
also didn’t miss that Vasily hadn’t personalized his words—“our own” instead of
“my son”.

“I am not one to allow such acts to go unpunished, but I
have learned with great patience comes great reward. There was no need for
retribution,” Vasily said, this time his gaze lingering on Kaz. “Not when we do
not have to dirty our hands. We are
Vory v Zakone
, others do our work
for
fear
of what we may do next.”

Kaz had to stifle an eye roll. Vasily was known for his
dramatics, but this was just over the top, and more than anything, he was just
ready for the box to be opened so he could see what was inside.

“This,” he went on, pointing to the box in front of him,
“is a gift given to me, but I believe that it is one worth sharing—and after
all, this gift is as much Ruslan’s as it is mine. So please, Ruslan, if you
would do the honors.”

Ruslan had never liked the spotlight, much preferring to
blend into the background, but as all eyes turned to him, he cleared his throat
and stood, hand going out to catch the box as Vasily slid it across the table
toward him.

His brother didn’t waste time with theatrics, just pulled
the ribbons free, then the top and tossed it on the table, his eyes searching
the contents.

There was a moment of disbelief, as though he couldn’t
believe what he was seeing, then he was reaching inside, drawing out the bag
inside, holding it up for them all to see.

Red.

That was the first thing that popped into Kaz’s head as he
saw the package, but as he blinked, his brain finally catching up to what he
was actually seeing, he rubbed his own chest.

The Italians had sent them Franco’s heart.

W
ith a heavy huff,
Violet dropped her messenger bag onto the seat and took the other right beside
it. Nicole barely looked up from the laptop she was typing on, and Amelia,
sitting beside her, kept her eyes down on her phone. Both girls already had
to-go cups of lattes sitting in front of them, and another was waiting for
Violet.

She picked the cup up, taking a sip of the Chai latte and
letting the sweetness of the drink roll over her taste buds.

“Damn, thanks,” she said as she pulled the cup away. “I
needed that.”

Nicole didn’t look away from the laptop. “How’d the test
go?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “Terribly, no doubt.”

Whether she liked it or not, Violet was going to have to
let her father know that her grades were slipping in school before the college
gave him a call because she wasn’t keeping up the average he demanded. The
school wouldn’t want to lose out on his regular donations, after all. With
everything that was going on around her, she just couldn’t focus like she
needed to.

Alberto wouldn’t be pleased.

It didn’t help that Violet wasn’t sleeping well nearly a
week after witnessing a man’s chest be cut open at her brother’s hand—a man her
friend had been involved with for a good year.

Violet passed Amelia a look, noting the dark circles under
her friend’s eyes, and her slightly disheveled clothes. Obviously, her friend
wasn’t sleeping well, if the way she looked was any indication to go by.

“Your dad is going to be pissed that you’re flunking the
semester,” Nicole said.

Violet barely held back her scowl. “Thanks for the memo.”

Nicole tipped her head in Amelia’s direction. “Not the only
one, though.”

“Does Vito know yet?” Violet asked Amelia.

Her friend acted like she didn’t even hear her question.

Nicole openly frowned, glancing at the phone in Amelia’s
hand. “Still no answer, huh?”

Finally, Amelia gave a response. Just a shake of her head,
no words.

“Who?” Violet asked.

Nicole mouthed, “Franco.”

Oh
.

Damn.

All it took was Franco’s name and Violet was right back to
where she started a week ago when she watched from outside the cabin as his
blood spilled to the basement floor. She tried to counteract the automatic
reaction of panic and disgust swelling up into her throat, threatening to send
the Chai latte back out of her stomach.

Violet cleared her throat, and glanced away.

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said quietly.

Her voice …

So soft, pained, and confused.

It hurt Violet.

While she was angry with her friend because of what she had
lied about, and what it caused, she didn’t think Amelia deserved to be left in
limbo like she was. Why hadn’t someone—Amelia’s father, even—spoke up and told
her the truth about Franco?

That he was dead.

His punishment was his life.

“He never waits this long to text me back,” Amelia said,
looking up from her phone.

Nicole passed Violet a look. She wondered if her other
friend knew the truth like she did. Nicole couldn’t have possibly seen what she
had, obviously, but she could know Franco was dead.

Violet just couldn’t bring herself to tell Amelia.

“He’s probably lying low,” Nicole said, her tone thick.
“Keeping out of trouble after everything.”

Amelia nodded, but she didn’t look like she believed it.

Violet didn’t blame her.

Chances were, Amelia knew exactly why Franco wasn’t
answering her calls and messages. But given the relationship she had with him,
Amelia wasn’t willing to let him go.

It wasn’t the first time a man had gone missing from the
Gallucci ranks without so much as a word or a goodbye to the people who loved
him. Others had suffered a similar fate for reasons beyond Violet’s knowledge.
For a while, people wouldn’t talk about the man, simply turn cheek to the
disappearance and hope he returned eventually.

And then a body might show up.

Washed up on a river bank, hands cut off.

Found in a garbage bin, dismembered into pieces.

Resting in a shallow grave, a bullet between his eyes.

Franco wasn’t the first, but he was the only one that
Violet had been privy to seeing happen. With the others that had gone from
their family’s ranks, she hadn’t been all that touched by it because it was
like a passing moment to her. Something that happened, but didn’t really affect
her because she hadn’t been a part of it.

This time was not the same.

She knew what happened, and she couldn’t forget it.

No matter what she did, it was there.

Violet scrubbed a hand down over her face, careful not to
mess up the makeup she had taken an hour to apply that morning before school.
Her first class was the test, and for the hour after, she had a free study
period. Which was why she had met the girls at a cafe on campus for a quick
coffee and some study time.

She couldn’t even be bothered to bring out her textbook or
laptop.

It was no wonder she was failing miserably in school.

Hoping her face was unreadable, Violet said, “Maybe you
could talk to your dad, Amelia.”

Amelia openly scowled. “Yes, because he’s so happy with me
right now.”

Ouch.

While Violet knew how shitty it was to have your father
disappointed in you, she didn’t think she had warranted Amelia’s attitude. It
wasn’t her who had lied and gotten them all in trouble. It wasn’t her who had
put Franco in the situation where he found himself. It wasn’t her who did any
of that.

“I was just trying to say—”

“Well, I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Amelia interrupted
sharply, standing from her chair abruptly. “It’s not like you tried to help at
that breakfast, anyway.”

Violet blinked, stunned at her friend’s sudden change in
demeanor. “Hey!”

Even Nicole seemed too surprised to speak.

“I didn’t tell you to lie to Franco,” Violet said, her gaze
narrowing. “You did that all on your own, Amelia.”

Her friend just glared, slammed the chair into the table,
and stalked off. Violet wished she understood what had just happened, but she
really couldn’t even begin to comprehend it all.

“Cut her some slack,” Nicole finally said after a moment.

“I didn’t do anything,” Violet replied.

“Well …”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, what?”

Nicole shrugged, refusing to meet Violet’s eyes. “I mean,
this did all start because you wanted to party down in Coney and—”

“Whoa,” Violet snapped, leaning forward. “Stop right there.
We all wanted to do that, not just me. And while I was willing to accept the
bullshit my father threw at me for getting us all mixed up in trouble that
night, I am not going to take shit from you, too. You wanted to be there.
Amelia wanted to go. And now, just because we’re all suffering the consequences
of being caught, don’t think I’ll sit here and let you throw it on me, Nicole.
That’s not how this is going to work.”

“I was just saying.”

“A bunch of crap.”

Nicole frowned. “You could have a bit of sympathy for
Amelia, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

Violet did.

She had remorse and sadness in the bucketfuls for her
friend, but this wasn’t her fault.

“You don’t know how I feel,” Violet said quietly. “You
can’t possibly understand how I feel right now.”

Because Nicole didn’t know.

No one did.

And Violet couldn’t tell her.

“Whatever,” Nicole muttered, slamming her laptop closed and
shoving it into her bag.

“Where are you going?” Violet softened her posture as her
friend stood. “I thought we were going to study or something.”

“I just … need to take a break.”

What?

“A break,” Violet echoed.

“Yeah,” Nicole replied. “From all of this. Carmine has been
acting strange lately. You’re being weird. And I just have better things to
do.”

Violet’s jaw fell slack.

Oddly, as she watched Nicole pack up the rest of her things
and sling her bag around her shoulder, Violet just knew … this was the end of
something. Or maybe it was just the beginning of an end.

A friendship that had started when they were just kids was
running its course. And for what?

Because no one really understood.

Violet watched her friend leave the cafe without a backward
glance; she felt more alone than ever.

She didn’t want to feel this way at all.

Placing a bundled stack of twenty-dollar bills on the
corner of his desk, Kaz stuck his hand back in the duffel bag at his side,
pulling out more and laying them out to count. He had been at it for little
more than an hour, but counting money was almost like therapy for him—it helped
clear his mind, even as he concentrated on the numbers in his head.

This was his happy place, at least it usually was until
Abram had walked into his office, dropping down on his couch like the weight of
the world was on his shoulders. He didn’t usually mind when it was Abram—but at
the moment, he would have rather been alone.

“Can I help you with something?” Kaz asked, not taking his
gaze from the money in his hands.

“I think I fucked up, Cap.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone in the
Bratva
did—they all did shit that wouldn’t necessarily be considered
good
. But
they normally kept it to themselves. Abram had always been the sharing type
though.

“What’d you do this time? Lost a shipment? Cut off the
wrong thumb? What?” Kaz finally looked up when Abram didn’t immediately answer,
then he noticed the legitimate fear in the man’s eyes. “What the fuck did you
do?”

“Do you remember Stacey?”

Kaz turned the name over in his head. “The bird over in
Hell’s Kitchen? I thought you stopped seeing her when she tried to set your fucking
car on fire the
first
time …”

Abram waved those words away as though they meant nothing.
“She was just mad. You know how it is?”

No, Kaz didn’t, and he really didn’t want to find out
either. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Like he had to force the words out or he wouldn’t be able
to say them, Abram answered, “She’s pregnant.”

Setting the money he’d been counting on his desk, Kaz sat
back. “Yeah, you fucked up.”

There were rules in place for a reason. In most cases, no
one gave a shit where you stuck your dick, unless you were forcing it on
someone, but with
sukas
like Stacey, who would happily fuck shit up just
because they were in a mood, it mattered.

Kaz’s phone chimed with a new message, but he ignored it
for the moment, his attention on Abram. “What are you going to do?”